


Fenhawke - a drabble

by alinova



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinova/pseuds/alinova
Summary: Fenris was not one for magic. He didn't like it, didn't enjoy it, barely acknowledged it's existence unless ranting about it, even. But he made an exception for Hawke's magic.





	

Fenris was not one for magic. He didn't like it, didn't enjoy it, barely acknowledged it's existence unless ranting about it, even. But he made an exception for Hawke's magic. On the battlefield, he could always hear the sounds of her magic as it crackled or roared or swished through the air past him, sometimes inches above his head, other times closing down around him in a protective bubble. If anyone else had been casting it Fenris would have despised even the concept. When it was Hawke, Fenris simply felt safer. Her magic was like her, in some ways, varying in what it was capable of. It healed, soothed, protected and boosted, while also able to ravage, scorch, decimate and destroy. It could obliterate and it could make things whole again. It never ceased to amaze him ━ just like her. Marian Hawke was just like her magic in so many ways, but mostly in the way that it stunned him ━ rendered him incapable of speech. Fenris loved her, and he had even grown fond of her magic, and so he would listen to it in battle, even as he raged ahead, tearing through their enemies, darting from foe to foe to slice through them. He never worried about protecting his own back; he knew she would take care of that. Even if she didn't, Varric would. He trusted the both of them. Never being able to admit such a thing, Fenris made it clear through his actions during a fight that he felt the way he did, never doubling back or glancing behind him in defense ━  only to make sure  _she_ was still standing, or that Varric or Aveline weren't being overwhelmed. Luckily, his Hawke was as strong and deadly and as powerful as they could get, and so he never found it necessary to worry too much. She was the Champion of Kirkwall for a reason. She  _had_  defeated The Arishok in one on one combat, after all.   
  
Fenris always listened to the sound of her fighting because it was something to focus on.  _Her fight_. Her might. Her determination to protect, and her raw  _power_. It gave him incentive ━ left him with a  _reason to fight_  as hard as he did, and with such success. Hawke was his muse ━  she always had been, and _of course_  he considered combat an art. What else could it be? Especially the way Hawke took part in it. She made it look like a dance ━  intricate and confident and beautiful. If anything would end up killing him, it would be her, ironically enough, as he knew for certain he could stand there in mesmerised rapture for days on end and watch her in the heat of battle. He'd be slain just rooted to the spot like that ━  like a lovestruck _fool_.   
  
Fenris allowed himself a smirk. That was not a bad way to die. Not at all.  
  
It was then that his subconscious tapped on his metaphorical shoulder, and alerted him to the fact that he could no longer hear the melody of Hawke fighting behind him. It was at the point in her deadly dance where she would bring her staff down with a vengeance and a yell and bring down the storm of the heavens, arcing it from enemy to enemy, rattling their frames and frying them on the spot. No storm came. No lightning flashed before him.   
  
 _"Hawke!"_  Fenris roared, forgetting himself completely. In a blind hurry, he defeated the blood mage he'd been facing and hurried to her side. She was all crumpled and broken, just like the pages of her journal she'd rip out and crush, throwing towards the fireplace back at her estate. Marian was too bold, too undeniable to even  _imagine_  like this, and so the sight of it was....  
  
Fenris knew he wouldn't carry on if she died. It wasn't even a case of wouldn't. It was a  _couldn't_. Fenris could barely manage the task of  _breathing_  without Hawke. He'd finally make proper use of those unwanted, damned lyrium markings etched all over his skin, and tear his own heart out. He'd pulverise the organ, obliterating it before he even felt the pain of her absence. It was a loss he couldn't afford to feel. It was a loss Fenris couldn't  _survive_  feeling. The thought alone had the breath trapped in his windpipe, choking him. He struggled with it, struggled past it, to call out for help.  _Help her. Save her. Bring her back to me. She has so much more to give_ ━  so much more to  **see**.  
  
The relief he felt when someone ran over was stifled somewhat when he saw it was Anders. Instinctually, he clenched his jaw, narrowed his eyes and hunched himself over Hawke.  
  
 _Abomination_.  
  
It didn't help that Anders seemed completely unfazed by Fenris' change in demeanour ━  and that the terrorist mage shoved Fenris away from her in order to begin his healing magicks. Anders glanced up at him, eyes narrowed in an expression to match his own,  
  
"You have no right, Fenris. You  _left_  her."  
  
"I have more right than  _you_ , mage."  
  
" _She's_ a mage!"  
  
" _Hawke_  is not an abomination!"  
  
It was at this point this Merrill intercepted, meaning to stop the building argument, but it was well known that no-one was capable, bar Hawke, of ending an argument between Fenris and Anders, not when it had begun.  
  
"You two ━  please! We don't want her to wake up to━ " Merrill's efforts were a shrill, chirping cry, her lilting, Dalish accent covering the words in desparation.  
  
Isabela was less diplomatic,   
  
"Boys, really? This is  _almost_  as bad as that time Varric told the both of you to compete for her over a game of Wicked Grace!"  
  
Both Fenris and Anders opened their mouths to retort, but everything was pushed to the side and out of harm's way when a gasping, reeling breath was taken from the most blessed of lungs. Fenris felt himself almost droop to the floor with relief. Anders hovered like an annoying, possessed, mage loyalist  _bug_ , and Fenris had to resist every urge to swat him out of the sky and flatten him beneath his sword.   
  
All thought was washed away, however, when Hawke opened her eyes and looked straight up at him. Fenris was locked, instantly, trapped ━  just like he always had been. A breathtaking, world shifting smile spread over her blissful countenance, and the hints of mischief played on those lips and sparkled in her eyes.  
  
"Well, that was bracing, wasn't it? Who knew blood mages could be so  _exciting!_ Right ━  who's ready for round two?!"  
  
And just like that, everything was back to the way it was. The world could go on turning, time could carry on with it's neverending trend, and Fenris... could allow himself to  _breathe_  again.


End file.
